


he followed me home

by Antartique



Series: Of Beasts and Romance [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Demonic Beast AU, Human/Monster Romance, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:28:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27551557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antartique/pseuds/Antartique
Summary: Convincing his Father to let him keep a pet was easy. Convincing his Father to let him keep a Demonic Beast... maybe not so much.Sylvain was turned into a Beast, and now Felix has to watch over him.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: Of Beasts and Romance [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2013904
Comments: 1
Kudos: 35





	he followed me home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ruritto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruritto/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Domum](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20930156) by [Ruritto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruritto/pseuds/Ruritto). 



> [Sketchbook piece, unbeta'd]  
> I started this ages ago and I'm tired of looking at it, so take it off my hands. Maybe I will continue, maybe not, who knows.
> 
>  **Warning:** Felix is horny for a beast.

“You want to _what_?”

Felix is about one loud noise from throwing his sword at his Father’s head or, better yet, from just killing everyone at the gates. It isn’t that he doesn’t think his —or, well, his Father’s— men aren’t up to the task, but he did get used to the steady and welcoming silence that had been the trip back home. Only him, his sword, and the occasional shadow scouting ahead, up on a cliff or sneaking between trees or running circles around Felix, unusually and terrifyingly fast.

And now he, somehow, has to convince his Father to keep said shadow close, because losing sight of it not only would be extremely dangerous for the surrounding territories, allied troops and enemy forces, but also because Felix himself would not survive his heart breaking once more.

“I want,” he repeats, slowly, like speaking to a child, “to keep a big animal here.”

Not quite what he should ask, but it will do. As much as it pains him to call Sylvain —ridiculously intelligent yet dumb at the same time, with his stupid face and his Lance— a big animal, it… is what he is, currently. Just a big beast, way smarter and faster than others, but still a beast.

His Father does not seem to understand what he is asking, nor does the battalion gathered around the gates. One or two seem to catch on, but they don’t do much aside from narrowing their eyes at Felix and then washing their hands off this whole mess. His maid, who has been fighting with Felix’s frizzy hair since he made it to the gate, also seems to understand he is planning _something_ , because she clicks her tongue and runs off with Felix’s supplies —probably to refresh them, because she has always been pragmatic like that.

“A… big animal. Like, a wolf?” Almost as one, they all look towards the arch marking the pathway towards the Allaidh Woods. There are no animals to be seen around it, which was an odd sight through most of Felix’s life, but is not particularly rare through war. It makes sense the wolves would not come out if there is danger. “Did— did you bring back a snow lion?”

Felix almost leaves _right then_ , because _no_ , he did not bring back good omens or news of _Dimitri_. Yes, Dimitri _might_ be alive, yes, they _will_ look for him later, but no. No, the one he brought back is _Sylvain_ ; Sylvain, who was also missing, Sylvain, who was also declared dead without anyone seeing the body, Sylvain, who no one _asks_ about. And, Felix _does_ understand, because Sylvain is not the Prince, or the Professor, or the only hope left for Fódlan or whatever they are calling those two in the latest propaganda, but he is _Felix’s_ hope and, somehow, no one seems to notice that.

 _Dedue_ is missing too, most likely dead. Ashe was taken prisoner a few weeks back. Annette is practically a hostage in her own home. Communications with _any_ of their allies from the Empire has been scarce, to the point they don’t know if any of them are still alive, and the Alliance hasn’t been any better. Fraldarius and Gautier are the only two remaining strongholds of Faerghus royalists and Sylvain’s disappearance and presumed death had been a _huge_ blow to morale, yet somehow it doesn’t matter. No, it all goes back to _Dimitri_ , as if Dimitri’s return could save them from their impending defeat.

“No.” The sun will start its path down soon, which means Sylvain will be waking up alone if he doesn’t leave right this very moment; at least his nonsensical sleep schedule is still the same. “I will just camp out, then.”

Felix accepts the bag back from his maid, nodding at her in thanks as she casts a set of pre-travel wards on him. They don’t last long and aren’t made for long trips, but this won’t be a long trip: Sylvain is maybe an hour from here on horse, so he can make it there with time to spare.

“Won’t you at least tell me what you are bringing?” The old man looks at him with resigned eyes, and Felix know he has won once again.

He is spoiled. He is not proud of it, but he knows he is. Even if it is only in the sanctity of his own home and when being glared at by at least three of the house staff or guards, his Father will always give in.

“You will see when we come back.”

* * *

Felix has to leave his horse —actually Dimitri’s horse, because someone has to take care of the poor thing while her master is off trying to climb up from hell— waiting above the cliff Sylvain had somehow rolled himself off of while asleep. It is broken, collapsed in such a way he cannot begin to comprehend what on the Goddess’s many names happened, but at the base of it is Sylvain trying to bury himself in snow.

“Hey,” he calls once he makes his way down, having had to make a detour around a nearby river to find an easy path, “come here often?”

Sylvain blinks at him—well, his eyes do _something_. He looks terrible, covered in snow and mud and leftovers of a meal, and yet Felix does not understand the warmth that floods his whole being at the sight of him: something close to _safe_ warmsafe _want_ that feels so out of place to him he has to shake his head at the thought of it. It is something soft like fresh snow yet sharp like the ancient glaciers of Sylvain’s home, something that rests heavy in his chest and his abdomen and makes him weak on his knees.

(Once. It happened once. It will not happen again.)

Sylvain hurries to his side, a blur of metal and scale that is cold and warm at the same time. His head is around the same height as Felix’s own, even when standing on four legs, but when he is like this —in this state Felix has come to call his just waking up mode—, he slouches, almost dragging his whole underside on the ground from how low he is crawling. Closer to a salamander than a lizard, he decides, and still _inhumanly_ fast.

“Sorry that took so long.” Felix doesn’t kneel, because Sylvain is already practically bowing to his feet, and while any other day that idea would have sent his mind into an overdrive and made him lock himself in his bedroom for a few hours, today he has to force the thought away from his head. _Beast, remember. He is a beast._ That is a mantra he has repeated in his head over and over again since he first met Sylvain’s new form. “The old man was being fussy, not that he has to be, since he doesn’t live on the first floor, but you know how he gets —always nagging and nagging about who knows what, Felix, remember your manners, Felix, did you hear anything out there, Felix, how are you holding up.”

Sylvain practically _purrs_ at the hand on his head, leaning into Felix’s touch like a cat, or a dog, or like a touch-starved Gautier after the long months of winter and no human contact. Some things never change, Felix thinks, not even certain family traits when one turns into a beast. His other hand finds itself under Sylvain’s head, tilting it up, and red-brown eyes look up at him through two- three sets of half-closed eyelids. The third one closes vertically underneath the other two, it looks really weird —it also makes him want to know _more_.

“He didn’t say no, though, so you can come home with me?” His hand gets caught in one of the many cracks in the armored scales and he doesn’t think much about digging his nails into it. Sylvain growls, a quiet and slow sound in the back of his throat that sends shivers down Felix’s spine from how _threatening_ it is, and the idea that this deadly monster is at his feet and mercy hangs like yet another heavy curtain in his mind. It dulls his reasoning, fogs his mind, throws the world into a blur of green and white and brown and black and _Sylvain_ and-

(don’t think about anything, don’t think, do _not_ -)

He stops himself when Sylvain _whines_ , high and desperate, shaking his head like he is trying to free himself of something and— oh, Felix is rubbing a nerve. Not a mental nerve, this is a _physical_ nerve, barely hidden under armor and skin, clearly exposed from this angle and very, _very_ sensitive.

It is like a bucket of cold water over his head, the realization of what he is doing making him leap back as far from Sylvain as he can. He doesn’t even get attacked for it —he expects claws or teeth at his throat ( _dangerwarningthreat_ ), maybe a barrage of magic too fast to notice being cast ( _unnatural_ ), not… wide puppy-like eyes, accusing and begging at a time, before the beast goes back to trying to bury himself in snow.

Felix blinks.

* * *

Later, in the evening, after they have eaten and Dimitri’s horse is sleeping and Felix is almost sleeping and Sylvain is nowhere close to sleep, he feels a terrible blanket of peace settle over him. Peace, as if half his friends weren’t fighting for their lives, as if Sylvain hadn’t become something inhumane, as if Dimitri hadn’t been charged with high treason and allegedly executed. Peace, as if they weren’t in war.

All because he is out here under the night sky, Sylvain next to him, and they are _alive_.

Felix turns his head to look, then just rolls over and off the sleeping mat. The ground is cold, even after a few dozen fireballs cast through the afternoon, but it is dry and Sylvain hadn’t dragged his snow with him to their camp. He _had_ , however, dragged a few carcasses back after his hunt, and the spots of dried blood make Felix grimace.

But, there is Sylvain. He is huge, ugly and dangerous, frozen still, body laying low and head held high. He has his eyes focused on a faraway spot on the horizon, so far it might not even exist, but if Felix had a compass to confirm he could easily tell anyone who asks: he is looking North (most specifically, he is looking towards the northernmost point of the border with Sreng). He might not even need a compass, because if he looks up he can probably see the Guiding Star, but Sylvain and Ingrid are the ones who can read the skies, while Felix and Dimitri had- have always been really bad at that.

It is _that_ , and other little things the beast does, that tell Felix he is not fooling himself, that he really did find Sylvain. He might not be fully _there_ , maybe not completely conscious inside, not a full Sylvain, but at the very least two thirds of the beast is Sylvain. It is the smallest things, like the terrible sleep schedule, the desperation for casual touching ( _all_ kinds of touching too, shit, it is younger Sylvain all over again), the way he seemed to be in pain when Felix put four swords of different sizes in the wrong order… And there are big things too. He knows who Miklan was. He knows who _Glenn_ was. He reacted to past stories, like curiosity at the stupidly intricate cypher Dimitri and Felix had made up when they were children and Ingrid had cried about because it was just for boys, or amusement at that one day Sylvain dragged Felix around in dresses so they could sneak into his mother’s tea party.

And yet, he still does things Sylvain would _never_ do. Throw himself into battle headfirst, no tactics. Make a mess while eating, leave his claws dirty. Run ahead instead of lingering back in a march. Expose himself to the sun for longer than necessary. _Swim_. Felix is sure that his list of ‘things the small Black Beast does that Sylvain does not’ will grow with time, if he is even allowed to stay with him, and if he isn’t… If he isn’t, then...

Felix reaches for his hand, and it is an ugly and deformed thing with too sharp claws, fingers wrapping loosely around his own with little care. He needs both of his hands for one of Sylvain’s, and that is so unfair.

There is a questioning rumble above him before a huge muzzle drops right next to him. Felix moves as close as he can, throwing an arm around Sylvain’s neck —or trying to, because he doesn’t reach anywhere, really. Once again, he digs his fingers under the armor and scales, looking for something he can hold on where he won’t slip from easily.

“So glad you’re alive.” His lips press against scaly skin. The cloud of hazy emotions is back, that cursed warmth as well, and this time he is not sure he wants to stop it at all.

Sylvain huffs. His hand falls heavy on Felix’s waist, claws digging in his back, the tiniest pinpricks of pain sending _fire_ up his spine. He gasps. He forgets himself.

Night fades.

* * *

Their trip back to Fraldarius doesn’t take long. What _does_ take long is sneaking Sylvain into the Woods, past packs of judging wolves, archways of ancient trees, some or other guardian spirit and Fraldarius’s very empty and massive mausoleum.

They stop there for a break. Sylvain immediately goes into the pond, which is probably just a few degrees above ‘freezing death’, and decides sinking down is a great idea. Dimitri’s horse is smarter than her master and just lingers close by, away from the trees and barely in the shadows. Felix sits down next to his family and tries to forget last night.

They stay there until Sylvain drags himself out of the water, a layer of frost forming immediately on his armor. He looks sleepy, which is nothing new: this early in the morning, before midday, is usually still sleep hours for him. Although... Felix should keep an eye on him, the cold isn’t good for lizards, and Sylvain closer to a lizard than anything else he has seen, right now.

Finally, they are home. He has a few seconds of freedom to appreciate the sight of _home_ , and feel the relief that fills him at knowing that _Sylvain is home_ , before someone sounds the alarm and everything goes to hell.

Later, when he gets to rest on his own bed, and even much later, he will be glad he managed to get hold of Sylvain’s head before he could lunge. Stopping him once he is moving is almost impossible.

At that moment, all that crosses through his mind is _stop this_. The beast—Sylvain, is growling, an angry sound made of protectiveness and _raw fear_. One of his magic amalgamation glyphs is shaping up above his head, circling slowly as it gathers enough energy to blow up. There are lances and swords aimed his way, half cast spells waiting for release commands, and Felix can feel the tug of a Rescue trying to get him _out of there._

 _No_.

“Felix,” his Father says, speaking through the small crowd of guards like he is fearing for someone’s life, “what is the meaning of this?”

“I told you I was bringing an animal home.” He tugs at Sylvain’s skull, once, twice, trying to get the beast to _look_ at him. “Stop _threatening_ him-“

“Son, be reasonable-“

“No! Stop threatening us, I- _We_ will leave!” The growl grows louder, a response to Felix own yelling, and he quickly kneels next to Sylvain so he can look at him in the eye. “Hey, look at me- we are alright, I’m okay, you can stop, yes? We are-“

“Felix-!” The amalgamation spell triggers, fire and lightning and wind darting like an arrow to the group of guards. It shatters against a barrier, and the Rescue spell tries to take Felix away from his beast once again. “Get over here, come on-“

“No, you don’t get it, you don’t-“ He is trying to not yell, but his Father is not helping. He is _trying_ to not fight, but Sylvain is not helping. He is trying to _stop this mess_ , but neither of them will _stop_. His hand ends up against Sylvain's armor, trying to find that one nerve that is ridiculously exposed, the one that makes Sylvain whine and curl around Felix (tightening his hold so Felix can press closer, gasping and groaning as he grinds against Sylvain’s underside— he is _not thinking about this_ ). “Shush, it is okay-“

He finally gets Sylvain to look at him. His eyes are wide, lids completely open unlike most of the time, more white than red than brown for now, and there is an inhumane desperation in them that is more akin to Sylvain-before-this-wreck than current Sylvain. Like he wants to flee, like all he wants is to just hide somewhere —or rather, like he _is_ somewhere else, somewhere small and narrow and cold, life slowly leaving his limbs, screaming for someone to _help him—_

Felix has seen Sylvain panic very few times, and he does not want to see it again.

He throws his arms around the beast. It is a terrible hug, not enough to give warmth, not enough to give comfort, but the growl fades into a quiet cooing sound as Sylvain does his best to hide into his arms. There is the sharp _zap_ of a magic glyph breaking, magic going back to nature in a rush of power that melts all the snow around them. He hears orders in the distance through the fuzzy cotton in his ears, his Father making guards stand down, hovering just outside the wall of heat around the two of them.

Felix prays to a Goddess not his own, to ancient deities of his land, and hopes it is enough.

* * *

“Sylvain?”

Said beast is napping outside the library’s glass doors, sprawled like a weird gigantic dog-lizard on a blanket Felix snatched from his room. He is eerily quiet, both because he is _silent_ and not moving at all, and has been like that ever since Felix asked him to stay out there. Some guards are still lingering nearby, the braver ones poking at his scales with sticks or the blunt end of their lances, but they seem to have lost interest as there is no response.

Felix and his Father are next to the doors, sharing some disgustingly sweet tea. The library is warm, which doesn’t help with the cold dread crawling up his spine at all, and for a moment he wonders if maybe leaving and running wild for a few years wouldn’t be the best course of action.

Dimitri is doing it, after all. Somehow it works.

Father sounds incredulous. Of course he does: Crest beasts in general are rare, and rarer still are those that can follow commands. The Empire has somehow managed to make their own, but even those are often let loose on the battlefield, and even the ‘perfected’ versions are known for just doing whatever they want and attacking their own ‘allies’ if things go too bad. That Sylvain _exists_ is a contradiction to everything they know about them so far.

“He seems to be aware of who he is most of the time.” Felix is alive. He had left his sword behind and offered his throat to the beast back then, and still all it had done was cuddle him. Sure, at times it _—he_ lost control, but it was mostly when he got distressed, or panicked as he had done before. “And— Even before, he only attacked Imperials and defended our citizens, so I don’t…”

“It could be a trick. Or residual instinct from—“ Father makes a dismissive motion towards the armory, but even he seems doubtful of what he is saying. The Lance of Ruin is very much _alive_ , and they are still trying to come to terms with it (because if it is, then what _are_ Relics?), but even as the Black Beast it _had_ attacked them. Not even Sylvain himself had been safe from- from Miklan.

“If it is, then I will pay the price for it.”

Their discussion isn’t long. Father remains doubtful, but he allows Felix to keep Sylvain, ‘so long as you can tame it’. There are some conditions to keep the secret, because Felix is not exposing _his_ beast to being dissected for the sake of science, the war effort, or _Gautier_ , but most of them are things he expected. Train it. Make sure it won’t attack allies. Discuss strategies involving it.

 _It_. Father treats Sylvain like a mindless creature, and Felix is seriously bothered by the idea of that. Sure, he is a beast, but he is not _mindless_. He uses magic, probably better than Sylvain-as-a-human ever did, and keeps a dozen of layered spells on him in exchange of a proper Crest beast shield. He is playful, and takes _baths_ , and is gentle, and _regrets_ hurting people.

Felix regrets, too.

He has to move some stuff around his room to open the doors that lead outside. He hates them, but now they are a blessing, as Sylvain is far too big to move around inside their human-sized hallways. His rarely-used balcony is a huge thing that sprawls out into their home’s grounds, so big that Felix often doubts he _has_ a balcony when it snows and stone vanishes straight into the fluffy white. He guesses it will see some use now, if Sylvain is staying there, or in Felix’s room, or wherever he chooses to make his home.

Of course, this is still _Sylvain_ , so the moment Felix leaves the bath he almost trips when he notices the huge sulking pile of armor and scales already waiting by his bed. Some of the things he had carelessly moved around before have been moved back near the walls, the sword he had left with his clothes before entering the bath is now leaning next to the couch, and even his discarded attire has vanished from the messy pile he had left it in, held carefully between Sylvain’s claws and being glared at like it committed murder.

“You don’t have to clean up after me?” He retrieves his clothes, throws them behind his head without looking, and leans into Sylvain. “You hands are too big for that now.”

He gets an annoyed huff as reply, pleasantly warm and heavy against his skin. It makes him shudder, a wild and familiar need coiling deep inside him, taking his breath away and _craving_. Maybe, just maybe, he should be scared by how easy it is to get him riled up now, he should be _disgusted_ by how natural it feels for him to pull Sylvain’s scaly hand closer. Maybe, just maybe, he should not let Sylvain curl his claws around his waist, should not let his own arms wrap around a huge head, should not sink into the warmth offered with a happy sigh and tiny kisses.

“Guess I should clean up, if you are staying here.” Sylvain never liked messes after all, and he was known for refusing to go into places if it was too much for his sight. That was one of the main reasons why he always brought his conquests to _his_ room, instead of staying out there with them: he disliked not knowing when was the last time something was thoroughly cleaned. Felix himself didn’t care at all, and he tended to hoard, so his room was number one in the list of places one would never find Sylvain.

Until now.

He feels himself being lifted, shifted around and placed on his bed. He is tired, and his pillows are fluffy and comfortable, and Sylvain is _warm_. The warmth tries to leave him, so he tugs and pulls and doesn’t let go until he feels a deliciously heavy weight settle down carefully on top of him. Blindly, he reaches for his blankets, and throws one on Sylvain to cover both of them.

Sylvain blinks at him in confusion. His eyes are wide, gaze shifting between him and the direction of the door, his hand resting next to Felix’s shoulder trembling slightly. It is adorable, or it would be if Sylvain wasn’t so obviously scared.

Felix rubs his thumbs under his eyes, feeling sharp metal and bone under a really thin layer of skin. He wonders how he can do this, if he _should_ be doing this at all, but the thought of stopping crosses his mind and is quickly discarded by his own feelings. Reason stops existing for a moment, as does common sense, and all Felix can do is accept that. Accept that, and lean in to carefully press his lips against Sylvain’s own mouth, paying no mind to fangs digging in his skin, relief finally blooming in his chest after so many days of the future being unclear.

A future without Sylvain is no future at all.

“Welcome home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me @ ReunLuet on Twitter, or Discord if you know where I am!


End file.
